


Kylux ficlets and short stories

by Heresetrash



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Christmas, Community: Kylux Cantina, Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Emperor Hux, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Trans Armitage Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heresetrash/pseuds/Heresetrash
Summary: A collection of Kylux ficlets from theKylux cantinacommunity on tumblr, and any other Kylux ficlets and short stories I should happen to write and don't have anywhere else to put.





	1. No more worlds to conquer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theme: Power.
> 
> From the prompt "And when Emperor Armitage Hux saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer".

The Emperor stood alone in his war room, facing the carefully crafted wooden table in front of him. Imbedded in it, every ocean, mountain range, desert and forest molded and painted to make up what was a perfect replica of the world.

There used to be borders but none were left. Not anymore. Not after he had taken the throne. Not after he had sent his forces into land after land. Oh, there had been resistance at first. There always was. But the Emperor’s Knights had a very clear task: slaughter whoever refused to bow to him.

Slowly the borders on the map were wiped out as Kings and Queens alike either surrendered to him willingly or were killed. There were no other choices. The Emperor did not show mercy to anyone who did not immediately comply. Mercy was for the weak-willed; those not truly wanting or capable of handling power.

First, he took the South. But he was not content.

Second, he took the West. But he was not content.

Third, he took the East. But he was not content.

Finally, he took the North, and with the North, he had taken everything. And yet, he was not content.

Entering the room then, was the Emperor’s most favoured Knight. The one Knight who had adamantly stood by his side since his coronation. Unquestioning, he had followed every order. Unrelenting, he had fought every battle. Always with a hunger for blood that the Emperor had never seen the likes of.

The Knight got on one knee in front of him and bowed his head in submission. The Emperor presented him his hand and he took it, kissing the ring upon it. His lips lingered there for a moment before they moved to softly kiss his hand.

“Stand,” the Emperor said, and the Knight obeyed. He reached out for him, grazing the cheek where the scar ran down the side of the Knight’s face, tugging at his skin. The scar he had received protecting him and his empire.

The Emperor had never felt fear before that day. But when he received the message that his most precious Knight had been severely injured in battle, he had felt a terror so strong he could scarcely bear it.

And the Emperor became aware then, that his fear came from love - another feeling he was not yet accustomed to. A feeling that pained him to such a degree that he thought he might succumb to it.

“Say that you’re mine,” the Emperor told the Knight.

“I’m yours,” the Knight answered him. His voice was dark; his eyes darker.

The Emperor sighed, his breath unsteady. His hand moved into the Knight’s black hair, pulling at it, as if making certain he was real. “Forever?”

“Forever,” the Knight echoed.

There was an unfamiliar sensation then; something wet running down both his cheeks. The Emperor let his hand go to his face and touched the wetness there.

The Knight, looking distraught, asked him, “What ails you, your Imperial Majesty?”

Bewildered at first, the Emperor looked back at the Knight. But then he understood. For holding in his hand was his most cherished possession, the one he had coveted taking most of all, not realising until now that the Knight was already his. And his tears, were tears of joy.

“There are no more worlds to conquer,” he spoke, and when he did, he knew he was finally content.


	2. Morning grooming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theme: Morning.
> 
> From the prompt "Shaving his face in the morning".

“This kriffing scar,” Kylo grumbled to himself.

It was eight o’clock in the morning, and he was standing in front of the mirror in his quarters, his razor in his hand, glaring at his own reflection - specifically at the new scar that ran down the right side of his face and neck.

The scar wasn’t a problem in itself. He didn’t care that it was there, in plain sight, for everyone to stare at. Everyone stared at him anyway. But the scar had brought an unexpected problem along with it, and that unexpected problem was shaving. It was a nightmare to maneuver around it. He either ended up not getting a clean shave, or he cut himself. Every damn time.

He had postponed shaving for almost a week now, making sure to keep his helmet on at all times when outside of his quarters, so no one would see how unkempt he was.

He was just about to slap some shaving cream onto his face to get this ordeal over with, when his holo comm sounded. He marched over to the device by his bed and slammed his hand down on it to answer.

“What?!” he sneered.

Hux’s head appeared in front of him. He was completely unfazed by Kylo’s aggressive answer (probably being used to it by now), his face as expressionless as always. But then his eyebrows creased and his eyes narrowed slightly, and he seemed to bend forward towards his own holo comm.

“What is wrong with your face?” he asked, seeming more puzzled than anything else.

“Nothing is wrong with my face,” Kylo snarled back.

“Are you growing a beard?” Hux questioned him.

Kylo’s hand automatically went to his face, trying to hide the shabby but already heavy growth of hair. “No,” he said.

“Then why, Ren, are you looking like that?”

Hux sounded exasperated, as if the fact that Kylo hadn’t shaved was a huge inconvenience to him and that a twenty page report on the topic was waiting for him to be written.

“Because,” Kylo said sourly.

“That is not an answer, Ren.”

Kylo huffed, then blurted out, “Because I can’t shave properly with this kriffing scar!”

Hux went silent. He looked at Ben, then at something Ben couldn’t see off his holo comm, and then back at Ben again. He said, “Stay where you are.”

The holo call ended, and Kylo was left somewhat confused in his quarters. He had no idea what Hux was planning. Soon enough though, the call button on his door sounded.

“What is this?” Kylo asked when he opened the door to find Hux with a small leather bag in his hands.

“This is the answer to your shaving problems,” said Hux, a small catlike smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Find a chair and sit,” he told him after Kylo had let him in.

Kylo did as he was told, not having the energy to protest or question the general at the moment. He sat down in a chair next to him and watched as Hux opened and began unpacking the contents of his leather bag.

It turned out to be a full shaving kit. Because of course Hux didn’t shave with just some regular old razor or standard issue shaving cream. No, he had a straight razor and some kind of fancy shaving cream Kylo wondered how he was able to get his hands on.

Hux removed his gloves and put them on the table next to the shaving kit. He then removed his uniform jacket and draped it over Kylo’s couch, before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Kylo stared at him, almost stunned to see him so bare. He had never seen the general out of his uniform.

Hux then disappeared into Kylo’s refresher. When he came back again, he was carrying a wet towel.

“Lean back,” he commanded.

Kylo followed his orders. When he was comfortably leaned back in his chair, Hux placed himself behind him and wrapped the damp towel around his face. It was warm and pleasant.

“This is to open up the pores of your face and smooth out the hair,” Hux explained.

“My pores?” Kylo questioned him skeptically.

“It makes it easier to shave. Better for your skin. God knows you need it.”

Kylo growled and Hux sighed. “Just shut up and enjoy it,” he ordered.

Kylo sat with the towel on his face while Hux prepared his other supplies. When he removed it, Hux took a small bottle of some kind of oil, put a few drops on his fingertips and started massaging it into Kylo’s facial hair.

It was the strangest thing he had ever experienced. Armitage Hux, general of the First Order military, was massaging his face. Not that he minded. Hux clearly had some skill, and it wasn’t a half bad view to look up at him from where Kylo was sitting leaned back.

“What is this for?” he asked him.

“This is a pre-shave oil. To soften the hair,” Hux said. He met Kylo’s eyes as he stroked the palms of his hands over his scruffy beard.

When he was finished with the oil, Hux gently dabbed shaving cream onto Kylo’s face with a shave brush. And then he went for the razor.

“Don’t move,” he said, “I wouldn’t want to accidentally cut you.”

Kylo narrowed his eyes at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

“If I’m going to cut you, it won’t be accidental,” he smirked as he dragged the knife across Kylo’s skin.

It was a strangely intimate sensation to be shaved by someone. And not just someone, but by Hux. He was precise and meticulous in his movements, taking his time with the knife. And the realisation that he, in theory, could slit Kylo’s throat with one swift stroke, was even erotic.

He paid special attention around Kylo’s scar, not once touching it with the razor, just sliding it over the skin right next to it.

When he was done, Hux patted his face down with the towel from before, now cold.

“To close the pores again,” he said.

He finished off the shaving session by putting some aftershave on Kylo’s face, and then some moisturiser. As he did, Kylo realised that he recognised the scent. It was the scent of Hux. He would smell like him now.

The very last thing Hux did was to hand him a mirror so that Kylo could admire his work. And it was good work. He had perfectly shaved his way around Kylo’s scar without any nicks or leftover hairs.

Hux bent down behind him and his face appeared in the mirror. He let his hand come around Kylo’s neck and slid it down the now soft skin of his throat, brushing his adam’s apple. “Do let me know the next time you need a shave. I will happily provide.”


	3. My body was made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this artwork](>).
> 
> Title taken from the amazing _love yourself_ Ezra Furman song "Body was made".
> 
> Written with the utmost respect for any trans people and the trans community.

There was complete silence in Hux’s cabin when he woke up. Blinking a few times, he looked at the holo clock on his nightstand: 4:07 AM. He let out a quiet groan, shutting his eyes again in hopes of going back to sleep, but quickly realised it was futile.

He sat up, reaching for the pack of herbal cigarettes on the nightstand. He had swapped out his regular cigarettes a month ago in an attempt to cut back and eventually quit. He wasn’t sure it was working.

Next to him, Kylo was still sleeping soundly. He was on his stomach, his face pressed into the pillow as usual. Hux wondered how he was able to sleep like that, how he was able to even breathe. Sometimes, even though he knew it was silly, he would put his hand on Kylo’s back so he could feel it rise and fall with the steady rhythm of his breath. Just to make certain he was still alive.

Hux lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke settle in his lungs, before it slowly seeped out again between his lips.

He looked out the large windows of his cabin, at the never ending starry sky out there. Sometimes it hit him just how big space was, and it made him feel so insignificant; his problems so miniscule and unimportant.

He let his thumb run along his jawline from his ear down to his chin, before he took another puff of the cigarette. It didn’t use to be that sharp. It used to be softer and rounder and… not him.

When he looked at himself now, he looked at the person he had always been. But there was a time when he had looked at himself in the mirror and not recognised who he saw there, as if he was in a skin that wasn’t his.

Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe that this was really him now. Like now, he would wake up in the middle of the night with a strong feeling of being trapped. Even though the worst years of pain, struggle and constantly questioning himself, were behind him, he wasn’t sure this journey would ever actually end.

Kylo stirred next to him then, reaching his arm out and grabbing a hold around Hux’s waist. Then Hux heard him speak in a groggy voice, “Hey, why are you awake?”

Hux leaned away from him to put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand. He shook his head slowly. “It’s nothing.”

Kylo propped himself up on one hand, using the other to gently turn Hux’s face towards him. “It doesn’t look like nothing. Tell me.”

Hux sighed. “I just… Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m enough.”

A deep crease appeared between Kylo’s brows as he frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“You know...” Hux began.

Kylo didn’t say anything. He just looked at him, waiting for him to talk.    

“I get consumed by the expectations. I feel like I have to validate everything I do; who I am.”

Kylo ran his hand up the side of Hux’s body, grazing the scars on his chest on the way up to his face, where he cupped his cheek. Hux leaned into it.

“You don’t have to prove or validate yourself to anyone,” Kylo spoke softly. “Your value and legitimacy is not based on other people’s opinions of you. It’s based on who you are and what you do.”

“I know that most of the time,” said Hux. “But every once in a while, I can’t help but question myself.”

Kylo locked his dark eyes with Hux’s green. ” _ Never, _ ” he stated, “doubt who you are.”

Hux closed his eyes at those words, and Kylo leaned in, giving him a soft but reassuring kiss.

“You are you, and that’s enough.”


	4. Hit and Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theme: Flight.
> 
> From the prompt "Fight or flight or freeze".

There was the screeching sound of brakes before the car hit Hux. He was sort of draped over the hood at the impact, then slid down the front of it, finally slumping onto on the muddy ground.

He had never been in a situation where his reflexes had been properly tested. Nothing had ever happened to him that had made him aware of whether he was a fight, flight or freeze kind of man.

Until now.

He had been out on his afternoon jog, following his regular route, where at one point he had to jump from the thick brush of the forest edge and into the road to continue. This was never usually a problem, because there weren’t that many cars out here. But today, when he had jumped into the road, there had been an almost immediate honk of a horn, and as Hux turned to his left to see a car coming at him, he had frozen completely. He had stared at it like some deer caught in its headlights, simply waiting to get hit.

“Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” a dark voice sounded as a door slammed. A very tall and massively built man came into Hux’s view from around the side of the car. “Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” he chanted.

Hux groaned where he lay. He felt beaten up, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t severely injured in any way. Frankly, what bothered him the most was that his new compression running tights had ripped at his right knee. He had bought them only last week, and they were expensive.

“I’m not dead,” he grunted.

The stranger sighed in relief. “Thank fuck.”

Hux rolled over on his side and, somewhat painfully, propped himself up on one hand.

“No-no-no-no-no-no,” the man said quickly, squatting next to Hux and putting his hands (very strong hands) on his shoulders to steady him. “Don’t get up, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Hux tried to brush off, eyeing the dark-haired, brown-eyed and not awful-looking man studying him worriedly.

“Except you’re bleeding,” he pointed out, the furrow between his thick brows deepening by the second.

Hux touched his fingers to his own forehead, realising that yes, he was in fact bleeding from a wound close to his hairline. Ugh, what a mess. His tights were ruined, he was grimy all over from the mud on the ground, and now he was bleeding as well.

“You need to go to a hospital. You might have a concussion or something,” the man said.

“There’s no need for that,” Hux shook his head. He tried to scramble up from the ground, but before he was able to move, the man put one arm under both of his knees and the other around his back.

“That wasn’t really a question.”

Hux made an embarrassing squeal as he was swiftly lifted up from the ground and into the air by this gorilla-strong man’s arms. Hux could see how his bulging biceps peeked out from the sleeves of his t-shirt as he held onto him, and for a moment, Hux didn’t feel any pain, only heat.

Then he realised what was actually happening, and he started to squirm. “For god’s sake, I’m not an invalid!”

“Stay still,” the man told him, tightening his grip so hard on Hux, he was almost crushed into his pecs, which was a sure way of getting Hux to shut up.

He got him into the passenger seat of his car; Hux getting a whiff of a woody scent as he bent over him to buckle him up.

“I’m really fine,” Hux told him as he drove off in the opposite direction of where he had come from.

“I’m not taking that chance. If for no other reason than the fact that I’ll get the blame if something happens to you.”

He said it jokingly, even throwing a look at Hux and smiling crookedly, but he actually seemed pretty worried. Hux couldn’t blame him for that. If he had hit someone with his car, he probably would have freaked out too.

At the hospital, Hux had to sew three stitches, and was confirmed to indeed have a mild concussion. The doctor told him that he needed to rest, and she looked at the stranger when she said that Hux should have someone take him home.

“I’ll do it,” he confirmed right away, his face still ridden with guilt.

When the doctor left, Hux couldn’t help but tease, “At least treat a man to dinner before you insist on going home with him. And maybe tell him your name.”

The man broke into a wide smile at Hux’s words. He had undoubtedly been attractive with a brooding look on his face, but that smile… that smile made Hux heat up again.

“My name is Ben,” he said. “And why don’t we make that dinner our second date.”


	5. The dark side of the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theme: Heaven or Hell.
> 
> From the prompt "Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?" "Get in line, jackass".

Hux had been standing at the bar in this god-awful noisy place for almost ten minutes already. They were playing some loud modern type of rock music that Hux simply couldn't stand. He had nothing against rock. Rock was great. But rock to him was Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Queen; all bands who knew how to write actual lyrics. Not whatever drivel that was pouring out of the speakers in this place.

He couldn't believe he had let Phasma talk him into coming here. He didn't even like going out. Ugh. He would have this one drink, then he would go home again - back to Millicent and his nice and quiet apartment. If only he could make contact with the bartender…

Something large bumped into Hux so hard he was pressed up against the bar, making the bartop dig into his ribs. Fed up with waiting and infuriated with  _ people _ , he whipped around, only to find himself face to face with a massive beefcake of a man. Hux was just about to yell at him, but instead ended up gaping slightly at the man’s broad chest, where his pecs were easily visible even through his loose black band t-shirt.

A fucking Pink Floyd t-shirt.

Hux snorted. He had probably bought it at some hipster vintage shop. No chance this vagabond actually listened to Pink Floyd.

“Oh shit, I'm sorry,” beefcake said, and Hux's eyes snapped up to a pair of full lips set in a face with deep brown eyes and a prominent nose.

“Did it hurt?” beefcake asked, knitting his brows at Hux.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it did,” Hux answered him sourly, rubbing his ribs.

“Not that,” said beefcake, gesturing to Hux's ribs. “I mean, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

He winked and Hux’s jaw went slack, dumbfounded by the awful pick-up line. And before he was able to react to it, the brute had pushed past him and was now taking up the spot at the bar Hux had fought so hard to gain.

“Hey!” Hux shouted at him over the loud music, tapping him repeatedly on the (rock hard, muscled) shoulder. “Get in line, jackass!”

He didn't even turn around, which made Hux absolutely furious. He kept tapping on his shoulder vigorously. He may not be able to force him to turn around, but he could perhaps annoy him enough to.

Hux saw how beefcake waved his hand at the bartender, and as if by some miracle, the bartender immediately came over to him. They shook hands (or brofisted was more likely the correct term, but Hux hated that word), laughed at something Hux couldn't hear, and only then did beefcake turn around again.

“What do you want?”

More than anything, Hux wanted to throw a snarky comment at him, but he had been standing at this bar for fifteen minutes by now, and this was the first time the bartender had even acknowledged his existence.

“A tap beer,” Hux called to the bartender, who nodded and took beefcake’s order too.

It didn't take long before he was back again with two beers. Hux went to hand him money, but the bartender just shook his head, pointing at beefcake, who smiled (crookedly and annoyingly charming).

“Do you want to drink this with me?”

Hux eyed him. He was disgustingly attractive, if he had to be honest, even if he had pulled the cheesiest pick-up line in history and was likely a fake Pink Floyd fanboy.

“Fine,” agreed Hux, without sounding particularly eager. Thankfully, enthusiasm wasn't something that came naturally to him.

They passed the table he and Phasma had found earlier, and Phasma looked at him with large, surprised eyes at first when she saw him with beefcake. But then her face turned into a huge grin and she gave him both thumbs up.

“I'm not going home with you just because you bought me a beer,” Hux informed beefcake when they sat down at a table further in the back of the bar.

Beefcake raised his eyebrows at him. “Then why are we even talking?”

Hux frowned at him.

“I'm kidding!” beefcake laughed.

Hux let out a dry laugh in response, trying to sound amused.

“What's your name?” beefcake asked.

“Hux,” answered Hux.

“Cheers, Hux. I'm Kylo,” beefcake said and held his glass out for Hux to clink, which Hux did.

“So, what's your favourite Pink Floyd song?” Hux asked after a few more sips of his beer, not able to restrain himself.

“That's an unfair question,” answered Kylo.

Hux arched an eyebrow at him.

“Choosing  _ one _ song from a band who has recorded more than 200, half of them classics, is like making a father choose between his children.”

Hux leaned his elbows on the table, suddenly paying close attention to what Kylo was saying.

“I don't want to, but if I have to choose just one, I guess I'll choose  _ Run like hell. _ But my favourite album is  _ The dark side of the moon _ .”

Hux’s eyes widened. “That's  _ my _ favourite album.”

Kylo grinned. “What's your favourite song?”

“ _ Brain damage. _ ”

“Fuck yes, that's a great one!”

Soon enough, the two of them found themselves deep in conversation, and Hux had to admit that he had been wrong about Kylo, and his t-shirt.

After two more beers and the clock just having passed midnight, Hux got up from the table. He started walking, but when Kylo didn't follow him, he turned and said, “Aren't you coming?”

A little confused, Kylo asked, “Where are we going?”

“Back to mine,” Hux said confidently, giving Kylo a sultry look.

“I thought you said -”

Hux broke him off. “I said  _ I _ wasn't going home with  _ you _ . I never said anything about you coming home with me.”


	6. The great flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theme: Autumn.
> 
> From the prompt “Oh no! There is only one umbrella! What will they do?”

It would be an understatement to call the current weather pouring rain. That thing the Bible mentioned, about the floodgates of heaven opening up, was way more accurate. And Hux, of course, didn’t have an umbrella.

He was alone, at one o’clock in the morning, at a deserted bus stop a little too far outside of the city for his own comfort zone. The bus should have been there ten minutes ago, but it still hadn’t come, and the bus stop obviously didn’t have a shelter, because why the hell would it?

By this point, Hux was drenched and freezing cold. He was trying to keep his blood circulation going by rubbing his arms and stepping back and forth, but it had zero effect.

All in all, this was just great. And if this really did turn out to be the sequel to the great flood, Hux was bitterly aware that he would die alone and likely unmissed.

A shadow at the corner of his eye, caught Hux’s attention. He turned to see a large figure coming towards him from down the dark road.

Hux wasn’t easily intimidated by any means, and was rarely frightened, but out here, practically in the middle of nowhere, that dark, massive figure of what he assumed was a man, felt very threatening. He was suddenly all too aware of his own narrow frame, and how he would likely be no match at all for anyone who wanted to rob him. Or kill him. Or both.

The looming shadow came closer and closer, dressed in all black and with a hood over his head. He was holding an umbrella with one hand, and the other was buried deep in the pocket of his coat… clutching a knife?

Oh god, maybe this was the way he would go. Not in the next great flood, but stabbed to death by a serial killer who had a kink for gingers, then dumped in a ditch somewhere. He probably wouldn’t be found for days, maybe even weeks, his body swollen and purple and gross. He had seen that on CSI.

Hux backed away as the monster man closed in on him, at this point very clearly aiming right for him, and when Hux saw him start to pull his hand out of the pocket of his coat, he lost it.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” he screamed at the man, screwing his eyes shut and holding his arms protectively out in front of him. “I don’t have any money!”

“What?!” the monster man, not sounding much like a monster at all, said.

Hux lowered his arms and opened his eyes then, and looked into the face of a very attractive man. He had pulled his hood down, and Hux could see a pair of warm, brown eyes set in a handsome face framed by a head of luscious dark hair.

“I’m not here to kill you,” the man said, holding his earlier pocketed hand up. It wasn’t holding a knife, but a mobile phone.

Of course he wasn’t holding a knife.

“I-I-” Hux stuttered, feeling like an absolute idiot for letting his imagination run away with him and reacting in such a way. He was blushing so hard from embarrassment, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’m really sorry if I scared you. I was just on my way home, and I saw you standing here in the rain, and I figured I would offer you my umbrella.” His brown eyes sparkled slightly even in the dark. “The buses out here are notorious for not being on time, and in this weather-”

“You came to offer me your umbrella?” Hux said in a weak voice.

“Yeah. If you want,” he shrugged. Then he added, cheekily, “No murder, I promise.”

Hux huffed a little. “That is uncommonly kind of you.”

The man lifted the umbrella slightly. “So, are you going to come under here, or keep standing in the rain, catching the flu of your lifetime?”

Hux shuffled over to him, sighing in relief when the heavy rain no longer hit him. He was still freezing though, but the man next to him was radiating heat, and Hux instinctively pressed against him, trying to steal some body heat. He didn’t realise what he was doing until the man wrapped his arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer.

Well, this was unexpected and something he shouldn't be doing at all. But Hux was feeling really sorry for himself right now, and it was just nice and warm and comforting to stand like that.

It was another ten minutes before the bus showed up, and in that time, the two of them didn’t speak another word. They just stood, close together, the man rubbing heat into Hux’s body with his hand, and not once did Hux feel awkward.

The bus came to a stop in front of them and opened its doors, but Hux didn’t step onto it. So the bus closed its doors again and drove off, leaving the two men standing together under the umbrella in the rain.


	7. A non celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Christmas holiday ask prompt "So we both know that kylo and hux has bad relationships with their family, SO I want a prompt where they both realize they are not going home for christmas and have basicly spendt their earliere chistmases alone and drunk. but this year they decides to spend it together and it somehow ends up trying to make an effort on decorating and christmas dinner etc and then the fall in love with christmas and eachother because to scrooges need eachother".
> 
> It's fluffy ;)

“Have a nice Christmas,” sounded from Hux's open doorway.

Hux looked up from his computer screen to find Ben Solo standing in front of him with his bag flung over his shoulder and his black woolen coat folded over his arm.

It was late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, and Hux wasn't aware anyone else was even at the office. He thought everyone had taken the day off to prepare for the next day.

“Hardly,” scoffed Hux.

Christmas Day was like any other day to Hux. At least, he tried to pretend that it was. He did his best to ignore the festivities and the fun and the holiday cheer that everyone else took part in, which he had chosen to escape for years now. Christmas was not something he had fond memories of, and therefore he found it better to stay at home, alone, where he could ungracefully wallow in self-pity, drink away his loneliness and fall ever deeper into the abyss of bitterness.

Ben raised a dark eyebrow at him. “No celebrations for you?”

“No,” Hux answered curtly, “I don't do Christmas.”

Surprisingly, Ben chuckled at that, and Hux narrowed his eyes at him. He and Ben weren't that familiar. They were colleagues and they were civil towards one another, but they rarely had any direct contact at work.

“Is there something funny about not celebrating Christmas?” Hux questioned him.

Ben sounded amused when he said, “Not at all, I just didn't expect us to have that in common.”

“You don't celebrate either?”

“Nope.”

“Why?” Hux blurted out, before realising it was none of his business. “Apologies, I didn't mean to pry.”

Ben shrugged. “It's a long story. Let's just say my family and I don't get along, and we're better apart.”

“I can strangely enough relate to that,” Hux told him.

“Really?”

“If I go home for Christmas, I will have to listen to a never-ending tirade from my father about what a massive disappointment I am, so I much rather prefer to stay at home with a bottle of Cabernet. Or two.”

Ben whistled. “I usually go for Tequila myself. Knocks me right out for the entire evening.”

They laughed, but the laughter soon enough turned into a sort of sad sigh from both of them. Hux supposed it was funny, but it was also rather pathetic.

“This is kind of out of the blue,” Ben started, “but since we’re both alone, do you want to, maybe, not celebrate together?”

Hux blinked. “Um,” was all he was able to say.

“It's totally fine if you don't want to,” Ben added quickly, sounding somewhat uncertain, “I just figured it might be a little bit more fun and a little less pathetic to get wasted together than alone.”

That wasn't a bad point. Being drunk on Christmas Day with someone who could relate to his poor family relations, actually sounded a lot more tempting to Hux than being alone.

“No, I do,” Hux told him.

“You do?”

“Yes. I could even cook something, if you'd want more than just Tequila. It's not good to drink on an empty stomach, after all.”

Ben gave him a one-sided smile. “Your place then?”

 

* * *

 

Hux might have gotten a little carried away with Christmas Day dinner. But there was still turkey left at the supermarket when he swung by the evening before, he liked to cook, and he was honestly excited about cooking for someone else for once. 

The thought had struck him that Ben would think it was stupid that he had gone all out like this, but then he thought that if Ben was going to turn down a free turkey dinner, then  _ he _ was the one who was stupid.

His doorbell rang at four o'clock, and Hux buzzed Ben up to his 5th floor flat. When he opened the door for him, he found Ben with a large plastic bag in one hand and a Tequila bottle in the other.

“I brought the most important,” he smirked, holding the bottle up for Hux to see.

_ “Patron?” _

“If I'm going to get drunk, I’d prefer it's on the good stuff.”

He removed his coat and scarf, running a hand through his dark hair to set it. Not that he needed to. His hair looked good like that - ruffled by the cold wind. In fact, all of him looked rather good, Hux thought, allowing himself to take in Ben’s fitted black suit trousers and equally black shirt with three buttons left unbuttoned. He was less suited up than at the office, but still looked more dressed. He had really made an effort.

Ben followed Hux into his joined kitchen and living room, where he sniffed the air. “Man, it smells good.”

“Thank you. I took the turkey out of the oven just before you arrived. It just needs to rest a little.”

Ben smiled. Then he pointed to the plastic bag he had brought with him. “Do you want to set this up while we wait?”

Hux frowned. “Set what up, exactly?”

Out of the plastic bag, Ben pulled a box with the image of a small, pink Christmas tree on the outside. Hux stared at it.

“I know, it's ugly,” said Ben, ”but I couldn’t help myself.”

Ben continued to unpack the Christmas tree from the box. It really was ugly. And horribly pink. And under normal circumstances, Hux would never have allowed that abomination into his flat, but that ugly, pink Christmas tree, that no one else had wanted, somehow seemed to fit their noncelebration.

Hux knelt on the floor opposite Ben, helping him straighten out the tiny plastic branches. Ben had brought some decorations for the tree as well: coloured lights, gold beads and a too large star, making it tilt to the side when they fastened it to the top. Hux wasn't sure if it looked better or worse by the time they had finished decorating it, but at least it looked original.

“Time for turkey,” said Hux, gesturing to the dinner table he had set for two for the occasion.

Ben took his seat, and Hux served him a full plate of turkey, sauce, roast vegetables and extra stuffing.

“The stuffing isn’t the best. I didn’t have time to make it from scratch, so I had to use store bought,” Hux apologised as he poured Cabernet into Ben’s wine glass.

Ben, all but drooling at the plate of food in front of him, said, “Are you kidding? This looks amazing! I can’t believe you had time for any of it.”

The second Hux sat down at the table as well, Ben greedily dug into the food. His manners were perhaps not the best Hux had seen, but the enthusiasm he was showing for the food he had made, was undeniable, and that was honestly more important.

“You sure eat a lot,” Hux commented when he served Ben his second plate.

“I need it. I work out a lot too,” he shrugged.

“I can see that,” Hux let out before his brain had time to stop him, followed by a slight blush he tried to hide with a large sip from his own wine glass. Still, he noticed how Ben stopped eating for a moment and smirked at him.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, worst Christmas memory - go,” dared Ben when they had finished dinner and one and a half bottle of Cabernet, and Ben had just poured them each a shot of Patron.

His head already comfortably swimming from the alcohol, Hux relaxed back into the sofa and gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, but there are so many. How do you expect me to pick just one?”

Ben waited for him to continue, so Hux downed his shot quickly, wincing at the slight burn in his throat. “My father has said a lot of truly mean and hurtful things to me through the course of my life, but honestly, one of the worst things was when he told me it was about time I stopped believing in the Santa nonsense. Because when you're six years old and you truly believe in the magic of Christmas, and then your own father destroys that magic by telling you it's all a lie… I hated him for that.”

“What the fuck?” said Ben, sounding truly angry on Hux’s behalf. “Your dad sucks ass.”

Hux sighed. “No, but he’s slightly disappointed that his son and only child does. No heirs, you know.”

Ben was suddenly thrown into a coughing fit and Hux grinned. He was never usually this vocal about his preferences, but at this point he was drunk enough not to give a damn, and Ben… Well, Ben was hot, wasn’t he?

“You okay there?” he asked innocently.

Ben was able to stop coughing. Instead he started laughing. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Your turn,” Hux pointed out.

Ben downed his own shot, as if to prepare. Then he pulled his long legs up into the sofa, crossed them and leaned a little closer to Hux.

“I was fourteen the year my dad couldn't celebrate Christmas with us. My mom said it was because he had to work, but I knew she was lying to protect me, so I pushed her until she finally admitted he had been arrested. That's when I learned that the career that often took him out of the country, was in fact smuggling.”

Hux stared at Ben with large eyes, who, in turn, was looking down at his own hands. “Oh my god, that's horrible. I'm sorry.”

And then, because he didn't know what else to do, he put his hand on Ben's knee, squeezing it lightly.

Ben immediately snapped his head up and his warm, brown eyes met Hux's gaze. Hux blinked slowly, and Ben swallowed.

“It looks like we're missing a decoration,” Ben spoke in a hushed voice, tryingly leaning a little closer to Hux.

“What would that be?” Hux asked him without moving.

“A mistletoe.”

Hux smiled, shrugging with one shoulder. “Let’s pretend we have one.”


	8. First Order secret santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Christmas holiday ask prompt "A holiday prompt: for morale boost the First Order tries secret santa".
> 
> This one is just dumb. NSFW ( a lil bit).

“This year, for the holidays, I have decided to try something new.”

Hux was standing in the middle of the bridge with his gloved hands tucked neatly behind his back, addressing the officers in front of him directly, and anyone else on the ship via holocom. The officers were all watching him in attentive silence.

“To boost morale and camaraderie, we will play a game,” he continued.

A few of his officers blinked up at him, and Hux detected confusion among them.

“We will all take part in what is commonly referred to as  _ secret santa _ ,” he went on to explain. “As soon as I’m finished here, you will all receive a message on your personal datapads, with the name of a person chosen at random. Within the coming week, you must secretly present this person with a gift. When all gifts have been handed out, the secret santas will be revealed.”

His officers looked even more confused at that, some of them even turning their heads to look questioningly at each other.

Hux knitted his eyebrows. “It’s meant to be  _ fun,” _ he pointed out.

Dismissing everyone, Hux returned to his quarters, where he sat down in front of his personal console to send out the secret santa messages he had pre-programmed. He pressed the send button, and seconds later a secret santa message appeared in his own inbox.

Curious as to who he would get, he tapped the screen to open it, and read:

 

_ Happy holidays from the First Order! _

_ Your secret santa recipient is: Kylo Ren. _

 

Hux stared at the screen in front of him. There had to be some kind of mistake. There was no chance his own programming had been so cruel as to give him Kylo Ren as his recipient. He exited the message app, restarted it and opened the message again, and although he knew it couldn’t possibly have changed, he still hoped it somehow had.

Kylo Ren’s name glared back at him from the bright screen, making Hux groan. What was he supposed to gift the Knight of Ren, Supreme Leader Snoke’s apprentice, and the cockiest bastard he had ever met in his entire life?

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. He didn't know anything about what Ren liked, besides working out and smashing the ship interior.

An hour later, after having wracked his brain for ideas and searching for hints in Ren's personnel file (which was severely lacking because someone was the Supreme Leader's pet), he still had no idea, and it was already becoming annoying.

Hux huffed. Typical Ren to be a nuisance without even trying.

It seemed he would have to figure this out using different tactics. And he  _ would  _ figure it out. If getting Ren the perfect secret santa gift was the last thing he did, then so be it.

 

* * *

 

When he wasn't absolutely needed on the bridge, Hux started following Ren around the ship in hopes of getting some clues as to what the man liked.

In the mornings, he followed him to the gym, swapping his schedule around (to Mitaka's great horror) so he could take his run at the same time Ren did his strength training. Ren gave him an odd look the first morning he showed up, but said nothing when Hux got on the treadmill. He also made sure to take his meals at the same time as Ren, placing himself a couple of tables away in the cafeteria so as not to come across as too obvious when he studied him as he ate.

By doing this, Hux hoped to pick up on some habits or discover if he was lacking something. But Ren didn’t give away anything.

Besides those meals and working out, all Ren seemed to do, was stalk around the ship, trying to look menacing and scaring Hux's men by simply existing. Hux snuck after him, watching him do absolutely nothing but walk. Ren didn't stop to check on anything or talk to anyone. He just walked: around and around the ship, up and down stairs and down long passages.

“Why are you following me?” Ren growled at him in a distorted voice from inside his helmet.

Hux thought he had been at a safe distance when he turned a corner and almost crashed into Ren’s broad chest. He was glad then that he had excellent self-control, because if he didn't, he would have screamed.

“What a ludicrous accusation. I'm not following you,” lied Hux, tilting his chin upward.

He couldn't see it, but he could  _ feel _ how Ren was staring at him from behind his mask, and that stare made his body temperature begin to rise.

“You're lying, General,” Ren told him, a little too knowingly. “Don’t think I haven't noticed you watching me for the past four days.”

Hux hoped it didn't show on his face that he was surprised to find that Ren knew what he had been up to. Mostly because it shouldn't be surprising to him. He knew Ren had his Force tricks. But he couldn't know, because if he knew, then he might understand that Hux was his secret santa.

“Don't flatter yourself, Ren,” Hux bit back. “Just because someone is in the same room as you, doesn't mean you're the object of their interest.”

They were already standing close, but Ren leaned in even closer, his face only an inch away from Hux's.

“Doesn't it?” Ren's voice sounded even deeper and more dangerous.

Hux stood his ground, refusing to admit to anything. But more importantly, making absolutely sure that he showed no sign of what effect that particular question had just had on him. There was something in Ren's voice, and it wasn't the usual threatening undertone.

They stood face to face until Ren finally stepped back, only to crash into his shoulder as he passed Hux, going back the way he came.

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing the evening before had taught Hux, it was that Ren had led him on that wild goose chase around the ship for a reason. It was because he was hiding something. And that something was surely the secret Hux needed to know to get him the perfect Christmas gift.

“I need you to shadow Kylo Ren for me,” Hux told his lieutenant the next day when they had their morning meeting to go over his daily schedule.

Mitaka stared at him wide-eyed. “Master Ren, sir?”

“Yes, he's hiding something, and I need you to find out where he goes - if he sneaks off anywhere.”

Mitaka looked slightly terrified, but nodded anyway. “Yes, sir.”

He returned to Hux in his quarters later that evening to report. “Master Ren hasn't snuck off anywhere, sir. The only place he goes where I can't follow, is his quarters, and that's hardly very suspicious.”

_ His quarters. _

Why hadn’t Hux thought of that already? If he wanted to find out something personal about Ren, that was obviously where he needed to go.

Steepling his fingers, Hux said, “I need to get in there, and you’re coming with me.”

“I-I am?” Mitaka stuttered back at him.

“We’ll rendezvous outside Ren’s quarters tomorrow evening at 1900 hours. He does his evening workouts then. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

* * *

 

The next evening, Hux and Mitaka met up outside Ren's private quarters, as planned.

“You stand guard while I go inside,” Hux commanded Mitaka.

Mitaka swallowed. “What am I supposed to do if Master Ren shows up, sir?”

“Distract him, obviously,” said Hux as he skilfully started hacking the control pad next to Ren's door, quickly typing in a series of numbers and symbols.

“With what?” asked Mitaka just as the doors to Ren’s quarters silently slid open.

“I'm sure you’ll think of something, Lieutenant. You're clever enough,” Hux nodded to him before the doors closed again, separating the two.

Ren's quarters were spartan. Hux thought this was the one place the Knight would indulge, but there was nothing but standard issue furniture. Only a black tank top thrown carelessly onto the poorly made bed and some basic products in the refresher, gave away that it was inhabited at all.

There had to be something more! Ren couldn't possibly live like this. Somewhere there had to be  _ something: _ a photo or a memorabilia of some sort that Hux could use to figure him out. He had to figure him out, because if he didn’t, he would…  _ fail. _

Pulling his gloves off and pushing the sleeves of his uniform up, Hux tore open the doors of Ren’s closet, rummaging through it. His nostrils flared when he found nothing but badly folded clothes. He turned to Ren’s desk instead, digging through the drawers.

There was nothing.

_ Nothing! _

“Finding what you're looking for?” Ren’s all too recognisable voice suddenly sounded behind him.

With a useless, empty journal in his hands that definitely didn't belong to him, Hux whipped around from the desk to find Ren at the door, still in his workout clothes with his sweaty hair pulled back into a small bun.

“Where’s Mitaka?” asked Hux weakly. He straightened himself in a futile attempt at convincing at least himself that he had every right to be in Ren’s quarters, going through his belongings.

“I sent your little watchdog back to the bridge,” Ren answered coolly, taking a few steps closer to him. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here, tearing my quarters apart, General?”

Hux quickly assessed the situation. He had never been the type of person to give up - ever. His general rule of thumb was to go down with his ship, burning, if he had to. But he had once read that a wise general should also know when to throw the white flag up, and perhaps this very situation was the time to do just that.

“Fine!” Hux admitted through gritted teeth. “I’m here because I was trying to find out what you like! I don’t know what you want! I have spent almost an entire week trying to figure out what to give you as your secret santa, but it is  _ impossible! _ There is nothing you need, nothing you’re lacking - not even anything as mundane as a pair of socks! Why can’t you simply have a craving for butter pastries, like normal people?”

By the end of his rant, he was panting. Ren, however, was smirking.

“It’s been interesting to watch you these last few days, General, and I really thought you would have figured it out by now,” he said, moving steadily closer to Hux. “I thought it would be obvious to someone with your intellect.”

“Don’t you dare ridicule me, Ren,” Hux hissed back at him, “especially not when I've been trying to do something nice for you.”

“I’m not. It was a genuine compliment.”

Hux huffed as Ren closed in on him completely, trapping him between the now messy desk and Ren himself. Hux could smell the after workout sweat on him, and he found that he, unusually, wasn’t completely repulsed by it.

“It seems that the mystery of desire eludes even your brilliant mind,” said Ren.

“Desire?” Hux questioned him, concentrating to keep his voice from wavering.

“What I want, General,” purred Ren, “is  _ you _ .”

A sudden heat pooled in Hux’s stomach at those words and spread through the rest of his body as Ren leaned in close to his neck, breathing hot air onto it.

“By the way, haven’t you wondered who your secret santa is?” Ren murmured into his ear.

Hux blinked. That had, in fact, not even crossed his mind. He had been so obsessed with finding out what Ren wanted, that he had completely forgotten about his own secret santa. But standing here now, he realised it could only be one person.

“It’s you,” he whispered.

“It is,” revealed Ren as he pulled away from his neck again, giving him a sultry look. “But not only that, I’m your gift too.”

Hux sucked in a breath through his teeth as Ren’s offer was made crystal clear to him, and the heat in his body moved to his groin in one massive wave. He grabbed Ren’s chin, tugged him closer and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

It was simple at first, only lips against lips, but then Ren let his warm tongue come out to tease Hux to open for him. Hux let him take his mouth slowly, licking at his bottom lip before slipping in and finding his own tongue. From there it only grew heavier, greedier, more fevered, and Hux didn't protest one bit when Ren's hands made quick work of his belt and dropped it to the floor. He moved onto his trousers, which Hux was already uncomfortably straining against, unbuttoning and sliding them down his narrow hips along with his underwear. The release made Hux let out a thankful sigh.

Ren sank to his knees in front of him, wrapped a hand around his base and then took him in his mouth. And as Hux put one hand at the back of Ren's head and leaned on the desk with the other, he was assured that they had both gotten what they most wanted for Christmas.


End file.
